


Identity Crisis (the John Sheppard does not do damsel in distress remix)

by tzzzz



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyswap, Crossdressing, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Genderfuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzzzz/pseuds/tzzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McShep AU of the episode Identity.  What if Neeva had traded bodies with John instead of Jennifer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity Crisis (the John Sheppard does not do damsel in distress remix)

Jannick and Bordal aren't the smartest gen-gals in the turnpin, but at least they're damn good at what they do. Neeva looks down at the smooth stone in her hand, grinning to herself. No, her associates wouldn't even think to match them to the Ancestor's device sitting like a treasure chest in front of them.  
  
She doesn't have much time; this village is actually well-guarded, it's people healthy and somewhat technologically advanced. She suspects that they haven't faced a culling in some time. Lucky them. Neeva's been to a lot of planets and seen a lot of desperate people, was one herself before her current life of crime. It's not honorable, but it beats moping about a civilization that no longer exists.  
  
She places the stone into its slot, hoping for treasure, but finds herself in a different place altogether. She's surprised and confused and scared all at the same time and she can barely stop herself from shaking. She's come across devices of the Ancestors that do some amazing things (she wouldn't be stealing them otherwise) but never anything like this. But she can deal, the same way she always deals - quick on her feet, a lie already waiting on her tongue. Better here than back in the artifact room with the villagers closing in.  
  
There are people talking at the end of a long corridor, wearing matching outfits in bright colors like perfect little Utopians. She remembers the island colonies on Gen-gesh, before the Wraith. Everyone equal, no stealing, no fighting, all the same, as though improving society mattered at all when lived at the mercy of predators. Maybe these people will be the same - idealistic. In a city like this, with its pristine metal walls and dull lighting, there must be plenty of treasure to be had.  
  
She takes a slow step forward, stumbling as her feet come out of her boots. She looks down to find that she's wearing a really ugly pair of pants, with way too many pockets, though they are all black, just the way she likes it. Her boots aren't fully tied, the laces just tucked lazily into the side. She bends down to tie them but an uncomfortable pull on her thigh and a twinge in her knee stops her. The pull turns out to be a holster with a weapon attached - perfect. The ache in her knee is simply unexplainable and unexpected. Also, she wonders why she isn't wearing something that shows off more of her cleavage. She unbuttons the first three buttons of her top and rolls down her sleeves so they look less ridiculous, then laces up her boots.  
  
Now, she just has to figure out where she is and then pray to all the gods she no longer believes in to lead her out of here. She's been in worse situations before, like when that fish merchant inVersall almost chopped Jannick's head off.  
  
She notices a room off to the right and ducks into it. There are machines and terminals all over the place and the lights brighten automatically when she enters. She recognizes it from some of the Ancestor's facilities that they've robbed. She also recognizes the flat tablet screens from several market trips already. They fetch a hefty price with the Genii, and that large screen with the diagram on it, she's sure something like that is worth even more.  
  
She's so busy studying it that she doesn't notice someone else come in. He's short, dressed in the same bright blue garb as the other Utopians and messy-haired, like he hasn't bothered to groom himself in a while. She steps back, hand going to the weapon and hoping it fires like she's expecting, but the man just smiles at her, moving to put down a tray of food.  
  
"Huh, it didn't know anybody was in here. You looking for Rodney? 'Cause I saw him in the Mess Hall." He stops to examine her and Neeva takes a step backwards. He must be on to her, but instead he says, "this is new look for you. What with the," he gestures at her cleavage, making her grin, "chest hair."  
  
Neeva looks down, alarmed, but her breasts are still there, pert and hairless as ever.  
  
"If this is some new thing to emphasize your manliness, Colonel, trust me, you are man enough for Rodney."  
  
"Rodney?"  
  
The man rolls his eyes. "Yes, Rodney. What other loud, annoying arrogant scientist whom you are secretly dating would I be talking about?" He catches her bewildered look and sighs. "Was I not supposed to tell you I know? He's not exactly subtle, and ever since the two of you returned from that conference in Arizona, I've noticed change. Must thank you, actually. He has been almost pleasant, in his own way. Actually complemented Miko's work. I thought she might cry from joy. Happiness is a good look on him. But don't tell him I told you so."  
  
"Okay," she agrees. Not that she knows any Rodney. She's even more confused now, because this man is speaking as though she's someone familiar, someone he recognizes and is clearly close to, despite the fact that she's wearing a gun in a Utopian colony.  
  
"You all right?"  
  
"Yeah," she replies, cursing herself for not pulling together more. Normally, she'd find it easy to trick her way out of it. The lie perched on her tongue is just out of reach. She doesn't know who he thinks she is, and she can't think how to fake it. She's never had the situation so completely turned around on her before.  
  
"You just seem a little confused. I know that sounds strange, but, no, wait-- Rodney mentioned something about your last mission with Todd. You had a concussion. Are you ill? I think maybe you should see Keller."  
  
"No. No, no, no, I just, uh. I don't. Where am I?"  
  
"You're in one of our auxiliary labs. East pier level four. I really think you need to see Keller, Colonel. I know you have high threshold for pain. I've heard Rodney complain about it enough. But if you have complications from concussion and don't go, both you and I will never hear end of it."  
  
"It's okay. Just a little twinge in my knee. Nothing a little ice won't fix."  
  
"In your knee? Why don't you just sit down and I'll radio Rodney and--"  
  
"No, no, you don't need to do that."  
  
"I know, you don't want him to worry, but you are actually worrying me." He pulls up a stool. "Sit."  
  
Neeva sits. Her knee really does hurt. But this man doesn't seem particularly threatening. "Please don't call, um, Rodney."  
  
He shakes his head. "I will regret this later, I am sure. I'm going to radio Keller."  
  
What in the Ancestor's name is radio, Neeva wonders.  
  
The funny little man taps at his messy hair and speaks. "Zelenka to infirmary. Hello, Dr. Keller, I have--"  
  
He doesn't have a chance to finish because Neeva draws her gun, happy that it shoots exactly the way it's supposed to.  
  
It's only after the little man has, regrettably, sunk to the floor that Neeva gets a good look at her reflection, or rather someone else's. The chest hair comment makes sense now. She reaches out to touch it and doesn't feel anything but her own familiar skin beneath her palm. Her hair is long and hanging around her shoulders, not short and messy like she's just suffered a wind storm. She runs her hand over a smooth cheek that is clearly covered with stubble in the mirror and whispers, "Wraith-cursed me, what is going on here?"  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
Neeva hadn't lingered long. Someone must have heard the shot and she needed to be somewhere else when they came to investigate. In the back of her mind, she hopes that the man will be okay. He had been kind to her, after all, even if he thought she was someone else - a man, apparently. She still can't quite get over that, wondering if she'll be stronger. Her step feels light, her balance maybe a little off, and the twinge in her knee must mean that she's linked to the body everyone sees somehow, even if she can't feel all of the effects of it.  
  
She does her best not to make eye contact with anyone or to attract attention to herself, but almost every soldier she meets nods stiffly as she passes. Some of the Utopians too, especially the female ones. Not that Neeva blames them. Whoever this man is, she certainly wouldn't toss him from her bed. She might even trade Jannick and Bordal for one of him.  
  
After a labyrinthine mass of corridors, she finally makes it to an outside door. The city is even more massive and beautiful than she imagined. It's clearly built by the Ancestors, with its towering buildings and mix of glass and superfluous architectural adornments. It reeks of a luxury that even the people of Gen-gesh had not bothered to hope for, surrounded by a sparkling blue sea and a perfect clear sky. There must be so much here. Maybe she can use this awful, confusing problem to her advantage. She just has to find a way to get out first. Once she has that, she can start think about what to bring with her.  
  
She contemplates ridding herself of the weapon, but she would look more conspicuous without it. And besides, she might need it later.  
  
"There you are!" An exasperated voice startles her again. "What happened to lunch? And don't tell me paperwork, because I know for sure that M3Z-887 and that upside-down yoga chicken dance must have won us the most embarrassing mission of the month pool again, so Lorne's doing it. Did Conan the barbarian smash your radio in training again? I called, like a thousand times."  
  
The man snaps his fingers at her.  
  
"Um, er."  
  
"Very articulate, Sheppard. No wonder Woolsey always looks like he wants to drag you off for etiquette lessons. Now, earpiece? This day please."  
  
Neeva has no idea what he's talking about, but she recognizes the withering look in his eyes when he leans forward to grab at her.  
  
"Sorry, sorry," he whispers when she pushes him away. "We're in public, I know. Just give me the stupid earwig." It's becoming obvious why this Colonel person would want to be in a  _secret_  relationship with this man. He probably has a bunch of other "secret" things going as well.  
  
She reaches up to where he was grabbing pulling off a strange black piece of jewelry that the man -Rodney, she assumes- snatches from her eagerly. "Doesn't look damaged. I'll take it back to my lab and check the battery. But first, it's Schnitzel Day, and I saved a plate for you, but left it in Ronon's care. I'm not sure how long Teyla can hold him off. Seriously, John, what happened?"  
  
"I forgot?"  
  
Rodney rolls his eyes. "We've had lunch together everyday, with or without the team, for more than four years. And you haven't missed one since we--" he blushes, looking hurt. "You know." Neeva would almost feel sorry for this man, panting after a guy who is way, way out of his league. Except he's also kind of a jerk, so she doesn't.  
  
"Sorry," she replies, trying to avoid another one of the soldiers nodding at her.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"I promise I'm not going to make you talk about your feelings, just, you seem really distracted today."  
  
"It's my knee," she replies, remembering the earlier conversation. "Concussion's just acting up a little. I talked to--" What was the name? "Dr. Keller. She said I'm fine." She smiles at him, figuring that even in this body she should be able to work her charm. Rodney is obviously already pretty well charmed anyhow.  
  
But instead his face hardens and his jaw sticks out. "A concussion in your knee? Sorry, Colonel, but I've long since become fluent in Sheppardeese and mentioning any medical problem in conjunction with 'I'm fine' does not mean fine at all."  
  
He taps his ear jewelry - some kind of communication device, she expects, like the little man used to call the doctors. The only problem is that this time they're in a crowded hallway. She can't just shoot him. "Jennifer?" he frowns. "Well where is she?" The frown deepens. "He's right here. That's why I called." Panic and hurt flash briefly in his eyes. Ancestors, this man is an open book. He'll be the perfect mark. "We're on our way."  
  
"It's Radek. He's been shot. They've been trying to call you. Come on. You can get checked out while we wait on him."  
  
Next thing she knows, he's running off and she has no choice but to follow.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
Neeva is happy to know that the man she shot is being taken care of, and even happier to know that he won't regain consciousness for a while. What she isn't happy about is being poked and prodded by the man with the funny accent (who according to Rodney likes to visit a brothel full of a people called "sheep").  
  
"Is this really necessary?" she asks, practically shaking with fear as they make her lie down under a big device that's supposed to "scan" her body. She's positive they'll find out, but the first thing they did was make her take her weapon off.  
  
"Oh, Aye, John. Though it is  _only_  your brain."  
  
He and Rodney exchange a look she can't decipher. "Not that he needs it really. So long as the part of the brain in charge of suicide missions is intact, he'll be perfectly happy."  
  
Neeva doesn't know what to say to that. And she's shocked when she sits up to find Rodney standing over her, his eyes shining with concern. "John," he whispers, reaching out to touch her.  
  
"So you two finally got over yourselves then?" Carson asks. "Are congratulations in order?"  
  
"Shhh!" Rodney hisses. "Do you want him to get a court martial?"  
  
"Sorry." Carson is really grinning now. "It's just that it's about bloody time. Now, I don't see anything on your scan. A few fading bruises and that cartilage problem we talked about last time I was here. Remember that treatment I told you they're working on back at the SGC? Since it's based on Ancient tech, you'd probably skew the trial group, but it's more likely to work if that's the case. I would have thought Dr. Keller would have ordered a course the second you talked to her about it."  
  
"Like he'd talk to Jennifer about anything," Rodney huffs, "Why do you think he gets you to do all his standard physicals when you're around? He doesn't like her. I know she threatened to 'play with your insides, Colonel." He glares at her, "But she's a nice girl."  
  
Neeva just lets the ranting wash over her. She hasn't been here long, but she's starting to get that this 'John' guy isn't exactly expected to pay attention. Though she definitely pays attention when the doctor asks her to pull her shirt off. She knows that all they're seeing is a narrow, hairy chest, but she feels awkward sitting in a room full of people with her breasts just hanging out. Then again, judging by the hungry look in Rodney's eyes, maybe she might as well be.  
  
She's surprised to find several yellowing marks spreading across her chest and flanks. She can't feel them at all. "Sparring?" Carson asks.  
  
"Try crash-landing a hive ship," Rodney grumbles. Neeva shudders, passing if off as a wince from the doctor's touch. These people crashed a hive ship? They're obviously not people she wants to mess with. "Sheppard's BFF, Todd, and an infection thanks to Jennifer's modification of the retrovirus."  
  
Carson frowns.  
  
"You should have been there," Rodney adds. "You might have saved the two of us a few bruises."  
  
"No, Rodney. I shouldn't have. That virus does nothing but hurt people and has done from the start."  
  
"Don't forget Wraith. It also hurts Wraith," Rodney adds. Neeva is impressed in spite of herself and she feels even worse for shooting one of these people. If the Utopians are truly battling the Wraith then maybe she should just leave them to it - let them have their battle while she fights her own. Sure, she only fights to survive. It's not noble, but its necessary. Her hope of fighting the Wraith died with Gen-gesh.  
  
"Well, nothing to worry about here," the doctor says. "Just let me check the knee."  
  
She pulls off her pants, feeling stupid wearing nothing but socks and a pair of shorts (that he wears under pants? What is wrong with this man?). She's surprised to find her knee already wrapped in some kind of flesh-colored bandage.  
  
"Self-doctoring, I see," Carson tsks. He unwraps the bandage and flexes the knee, poking and prodding and making her wince before retrieving a complicated black brace that seems to cover half her leg. "Might as well bring out the big guns, since I know there's no bloody way you'll agree to stay off it."  
  
"Oh, he'll agree," Rodney gripes. "He just won't do it." It's hard to take the man seriously, however, when he's looking at Neeva like she's a hundred festival days and the great citadel of Ancestor's treasure all wrapped up into one.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
The new knee brace and the amazing little pills that the doctor gave her make the situation at least a little more bearable. Neeva has to remember to steal some of those pills when she finally escapes this place, though honestly, it doesn't seem like a bad place to stay - warm and calm and modern. She hasn't tried this Schnitzel thing yet, but so long as it tastes better than mead-soaked beshoat tentacle, then it'll be better than anywhere she's spent the night for the past five years. She'd almost joined the Utopians, she remembers, in the days before the Wraith awoke early. She might have lived out a life not unlike this here, had they not woken. In fifty years, she could have been an old lady before they came.  
  
This could be her second chance, she thinks. But then she remembers that she's racing the clock. Once the little guy, Radek, wakes up from his sleep, they'll find out that she's not who they think she is and either jail her or execute her. She's been caught enough times to know that no matter how pretty the walls or progressive the technology, people are people. And people don't like thieves. They like murders even less.  
  
From what she's gathered so far, she knows that the soldier she's impersonating is very high up in the hierarchy of this city. She could use that authority to sneak back into the medical area and finish the job she started. But she doesn't want to. Better to just get away and and accept looking like she does, even if this man has just as many enemies as she does.  
  
It's not hard to just follow Rodney to meet with this "Woolsey" person who they have to discuss the shooting with. Rodney is far too caught up in complaining about how John never admits to his injuries, and also suicide missions, some hustler named Todd, and how a man-shaped mountain has probably eaten all of the schnitzel. How he can talk so much without taking a breath is a miracle worthy of the Carnival of Traal.  
  
Neeva's heart nearly skips a beat when they exit out of a closet of some kind to find the ring right there, built partially into the floor like she's never seen inside a building. There's no dialing device, however, just a large empty room, lit through artistic glass windows and guarded by far more soldiers than she could ever hope to overwhelm. She'll have to trick her way out of this then.  
  
"What? Like you've never seen a gate before," Rodney gripes. "Atlantis to Sheppard. Seriously, what is the matter with you today? You're even more deflective and laconic than usual, if that's even possible." Rodney keeps talking but all Neeva can think of is Atlantis. The war-state in the old city of the Ancestors. She can't believe she didn't recognize the stories. She heard about the planet where they trapped a bunch of villages in the underground catacombs and then collapsed them, and of course the stories of the famous Black Colonel, who holds a life-bond with a Wraith and tore open the secrets the Genii had kept for centuries. They even say that he woke the Wraith in a deal with the underworld like none could imagine. She wants to rip open her shirt once more, look in the mirror and dig through the chest hairs to look for the feeding mark. She know what she'll find there. She  _is_  that infamous man. She already knows he's stoic and obviously dangerous to the point of ordering suicide-missions and he's been ruthless in pursuit of his enemies, if the tales have any truth to them. She had better act the part.  
  
Woolsey turns out to be a small, balding man with the same strange clear goggles as the man she shot. He is also a Utopian, but apparently in charge of both John and Rodney. "How'd it go?" he asks.  
  
"Well, Carson officially declared Sheppard a moron, but Radek is going to be alright. He's in a light coma, but he should recover, barring any complications."  
  
"That's good to hear. Colonel, any leads yet as to who might have done this?"  
  
"Um," she mumbles. "I've mostly been in the medical area."  
  
"Infirmary, Sheppard. It's not as though he can't figure out you were getting checked out."  
  
"You were getting checked as well?" Woolsey asks.  
  
Rodney rolls his eyes. "He's been acting strange all day. Not even taking his Tylenol for the chronic knee pain he's been hiding from all of us. We were hoping you'd brief _us_  on the situation."  
  
"All we have so far is Dr. Zelenka contacting Dr. Keller by radio. He barely got half a sentence out before there was a gunshot. It took the Marines some time to locate him and bring him in. We couldn't contact you, so Major Lorne did the initial investigation. There were no witnesses and no sign of a struggle."  
  
"Dr. Biro said it was a nine-millimeter bullet," Rodney adds. "It could have come from anyone."  
  
Woolsey turns to Neeva. "I remember reading in your monthly security report that you wanted an inventory of groove patterns for all the guns in our armory, so we can trace any stolen ones we recover. Did you finish that project by any chance?"  
  
"I don't know. Some of them. If you give me the bullet, I can check it against our inventory." Or conveniently lose it.  
  
"I believe Dr. Biro still has it. I want a full investigation. Use every resource; no stone unturned. One of our people is lying in a coma."  
  
"A light coma," Rodney interrupts, looking stubborn and upset. Neeva feels sorry for him and pats him on the thigh, causing Woolsey to eye them strangely until she yanks her hand away.  
  
"I want to know who is responsible for this."  
  
"I will hunt them down and execute them myself." There, more like the colonel they must be expecting.  
  
She's not expecting the laugh from Rodney. "You do that."  
  
She crowds closer to him, realizing why they are really together. Rodney is like a misbehaving child. A warlord like the colonel must get off on his submission. That's a role Neeva knows how to play. "Don't doubt my will, Rodney. Or I will be forced to demonstrate."  
  
Woolsey clears his throat and Neeva remembers, belatedly, that he is the one in charge here. The Black Colonel might be the hand responsible for Atlantis' power and reputation, but he is not the dictator of its policies. "I apologize, Magistrate, I will discipline the culprit as you see fit."  
  
Woolsey turns to Rodney. "You're sure Dr. Beckett cleared him?"  
  
Rodney looks properly cowed at Neeva's glare, just like Bordal whenever she puts her foot down. "Yes. Though I guess we know why he normally turns down the codeine."  
  
Neeva realizes too late that she has made a drastic mistake. The Black Colonel may be fierce to others, but obviously not to these men who he considers one of his own. She plasters a smile on her face and forces herself to relax. "I'm sorry, again. I wasn't feeling well and then Radek got shot. I shouldn't have accepted the codeine." Not that she knows what that is.  
  
"It's fine, John," Rodney huffs. "You'd be even more freakish than you already are if you didn't occasionally have a bad day. At least we won't have PZY -349 tomorrow. I need another harvest festival like I needed to see Bill Nye and Neil deGrasse Tyson try to out-letch each other staring at your ass."  
  
"As always, Dr. McKay, you have provided significantly more information than I needed on any given day." Woolsey grimaces. "Though that does remind me: I'll be officially suspending gate travel until our culprit is found."  
  
Neeva barely stops herself from shouting out "no." If they cut off the gate, how will she get out of here? "Do we know the person is still here? Maybe they came in some other way?"  
  
"Without the sensor detecting them? And then they used one of our own weapons? No, either the person came here invisibly, shot Radek invisibly and escaped invisibly, or they were one of our people. There was no struggle, and Radek was talking to Jennifer casually, not like he was facing a strange entity or was being held at gunpoint. He knew whoever did it."  
  
"Maybe he did," Woolsey replied. "I'll radio Dr. Keller and have her start on base-wide medical scans. We've had a Goa'uld here once and I'm not taking any chances."  
  
"What about other ways the culprit could escape? Is there anything else we should look for?" Neeva asks, trying to hide her curiosity.  
  
"The jumpers, I guess. Maybe you should post an extra guard," Rodney suggests.  
  
"I'll have Major Lorne do it," Woolsey adds. "I think you could use a little rest, Colonel. Would you mind, Rodney?"  
  
"Sure, stick me with babysitting duty."  
  
"Thank you," Neeva says. "I really need to go lie down now."  
  
Woolsey dismisses them, and the second they're out of the ring area and into another long corridor, Rodney turns to Neeva and hisses. "Okay, John, you're really starting to scare me. You let Lorne take over the investigation? Tell Woolsey you need to lie down? It's more than just a bad knee, isn't it? That treatment Carson was talking about is something more serious, isn't it? Oh my god, you have cancer. The nukes and the radiation planet and flying close to the sun, not to mention all the other million things we're exposed to. John," his voice nearly breaks and Neeva has no idea what to do, so she pats him on the shoulder.  
  
"I don't have cancer. I really just need to lie down."  
  
Rodney doesn't look convinced, but he leads her to the right room and even leaves her alone there after unlacing her boots (looking baffled that they're laced up at all) and practically tucking her in. He leaves with a tender kiss, like Neeva can't remember since her mother, and instead of plotting exactly how to get out of here, she just lies on the ridiculously small bed wondering what justice there is in the world where a mass-murder gets someone to care about him like that while people like her lose their families and their livelihoods and their whole  _worlds_.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
Even though Neeva is in her quarters, she doesn't suffer for visitors. She's surprised to find the first is a woman. Her suspicions about the Black Colonel's faithfulness have proven true. This woman is beautiful, with golden brown skin and warm knowing eyes. She doesn't dress like a Utopian, and smiles warmly at Neeva, touching their foreheads together in the traditional greeting of Neeva's people, bringing back memories too sharp and painfully bright. Could this woman be a survivor too? Neeva has never met another who used that same gesture. Jannick and Bordal had made fun of her endlessly for it. "Gen-gesh?" she can't help but ask, knowing that one way or another it will give her away but not caring, if this is a chance to reconnect with her lost people.  
  
"John?" the woman asks. "How did you come to know of this name?"  
  
Neeva tries to play it off as innocent. "I must have heard it somewhere. In the market, someone greeted me the same way. That's where they were from."  
  
"We have not been to an interplanetary market in months? You did not think it wise to tell me of this sooner?" her tone is stern, but Neeva finds she likes it. This body must too, because she suddenly feels a quick jolt of arousal.  
  
"I must have forgotten."  
  
The woman sighs. "I only wish I had the opportunity to meet the one you speak of."  
  
And Neeva would very much like to meet this woman again, should she ever make it back to her own body where she belongs. It has been too long since she's invited another woman to share their bed, and this is one she is sure even the witless, like Jannick and Bordal, could appreciate. "Maybe in the Spring. Remind me to go to the Pntelli festival market and maybe we'll find her there." Neeva moves back to the bed and the woman follows, so she is sitting cross legged across from where Neeva perches against the wall, he bad knee extended in front of her.  
  
After a moment of silence, the woman continues, "Forgive me, John. I was so caught up in the Gen-gesh that I neglected to ask how you are feeling."  
  
Neeva finds in herself a genuine smile. It feels good. "Much better, actually."  
  
The woman smiles back. It's almost heartbreaking how sincere she looks. "I am happy you are finally allowing yourself the rest you need. You push yourself too hard, John."  
  
Neeva nods. The whole knee thing is evidence of that. She has no idea how the Black Colonel lived with the pain. "Tell me more about Gen-gesh."  
  
Neeva can't get enough of this woman's smile. "It was my people's home, many years ago, before those with the gift were returned there. It was a thriving civilization, with many trading outposts on different worlds. Gen-gesh was the homeworld, a technological society of the level we witnessed on Sateda. There were whole citadels dedicated to knowledge, and progress. I had been there once. It was almost as awe inspiring as Atlantis. The city stretched as far from the gate as the eye could see."  
  
Neeva remembers. For the first time in many long years, she lets herself remember the way the sun sparkled off the buildings, the high, arid mountains in the distance, the hum of life thriving all around. "Must have been wonderful."  
  
"Yes, it was. But my people broke from it for a reason. The stories tell of how the council feared those with the Gift and exiled them to the far Athos base. They allowed the drive for progress and the fear of the Wraith to overwhelm basic compassion. And despite that fact, I had always wanted to return. It has long been said among my people that once you gaze upon that world, you will always return. It was truly spectacular."  
  
Neeva feels tears spring to her eyes, but she suppresses them, intensely aware that the Black Colonel would not cry. Normally, Neeva doesn't allow herself to either. "I'm afraid I have bad news, then. It was destroyed in a culling. The woman I met was one of the only survivors."  
  
Neeva expects the woman to mourn, but instead their foreheads are touching once again. "Oh, John, it was not your fault."  
  
It isn't hard to grab ahold of the comfort being offered, and yet it's the hardest thing of all. It's not hers to take, but Neeva desperately wants to take it. She pulls the woman to her, kissing her check, kissing her softly on the lips as she supposes real lovers do.  
  
"John?" the woman pulls back. Of course she's too good to be true. "I do not wish to be insensitive, but this is very out-of-character for you. Especially now that Kanaan has returned."  
  
"I'm sorry," Neeva whispers. She feels off-balance, more than in a long time. "I had a moment of weakness."  
  
The woman smirks. "You last moment of weakness, you were infected with the retrovirus. Should I be worried?" She clearly didn't look it.  
  
"No, no. I guess, I just needed to reach out."  
  
"Then thank you, John, for reaching out to me. You know I will always be here when you need me and I will never think poorly of you for it."  
  
Neeva nods, her borrowed eyes shining now. She has never been on the receiving end of such an offer, such true and simple words.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
Neeva is startled when the door slides open to reveal a big man with even bigger hair standing there, looking concerned and a little feral. He ambles in unconcerned, making Neeva stand just to feel a little larger by comparison.  
  
"So what's wrong with you?"  
  
"My knee. I took some codeine." She'd finally figured out that was the pills she'd taken when Rodney confiscated the bottle from her and promised to return with something that wouldn't make her psycho.  
  
The big man grunted. "Don't like that stuff. You too sick to spar?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Or maybe you don't want me to beat you again." He flops down on the bed next to her and nudges her shoulder. She feels disgustingly vulnerable, sitting here next to him in nothing but undershorts, since Rodney insisted she'd be more comfortable with no shirt on. She pushes herself to her feet and almost dives for the drawers she saw Rodney put her clothes into. She finds a black shirt that looks too big, but somehow seems to pull tight across her form the second she gets it on. Judging by the drawer's contents, she can tell why they call John the Black Colonel, like the picture of the man one the wall. Perhaps that man is his father.  
  
"If you want to be lazy, we can watch that movie with the angry green guy you were telling me about."  
  
"Movie?" Neeva asks. Green guy?  
  
"I think it was the Impossible Hulk, or something." He indicates a shelf with some flat boxes covered in pictures stacked on them.  
  
Neeva still has no idea what he's talking about, but there is a green man on the cover of one of the boxes so she presents it to the big guy.  
  
"Yeah, that one. So are you going to play it, or what?"  
  
She is into this trick too far, Neeva can feel it. She's sweating and almost shaking. This man is a lot bigger than her, even bigger than the Black Colonel, and stronger. He's looking at her suspiciously now, and he is the last person she wants to have catch her. "You know, maybe I would rather spar. Let me get on the knee brace then we can go."  
  
Sparring, at least, she knows. And she's surprised to find that even though she can't see it, this body hits harder and reaches further than she's used to, though it moves just as quick. When they entered the gym, all of the soldiers had cleared out, also helpfully identifying the big man as Ronon, looking just about as scared of him as she is, though she's now convinced that he won't hurt her. Much.  
  
Plus, she's been making a life from stealing and violence for the past five years. It was either live as the quaint little wife and baby-maker that her looks could have afforded her, accept that job at a brothel, or grow up and learn to fight hard, and fight dirty. She grins, favoring her bad knee enough to spark Ronon's concern before almost landing a groin shot, then pulling on his long messy hair. Of course, the man only smiles predatorily and swipes her good knee out from under her.  
  
"Hey, you want to cripple them both?" she complains.  
  
"You asked for it. Finally fighting like a survivor, not a video game."  
  
"Hey!" she protests, even though she doesn't know what a video game is and she's sure it was a compliment.  
  
When he reaches down to pull her to her feet she twists her legs around his ankles, in one of Janick's favorite moves. She wasn't anticipating, however, how much it would hurt for a man that size to land on her. "Ouch," she complains, lamenting Rodney's confiscation of the codeine bottle.  
  
Ronon laughs. "You got me, Sheppard. Too bad, you're still the bruised one." She kind of likes this guy, in spite of herself. He'd make a good associate.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
Ronon laughs at her when she asks for an escort to these jumper things that will let her get out of here. But she's the Black Colonel. All those people nodding at her in the hallways are under her command. It's not hard to call one of them over. "I need a jumper," she says.  
  
The man is young and he looks confused, but he says, "Yes, Sir."  
  
"You heard what happened to Radek?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Woolsey wants the jumpers protected. I'm taking you to help guard them."  
  
"What about west section patrol, sir?"  
  
"Are you going to follow my orders or not?" she snaps, smirking when the kid gives her another "Yes, sir," and takes off just enough in front for her to follow him over there.  
  
That means that when they arrive, there are now five people guarding the door. But it doesn't matter. She's the Black Colonel. It's not suspicious for her to be out here. These jumper things look like giant sausages, but she saw one flying when she stood on the balcony. They're ships that will get her out of here. Unfortunately, she has no idea how to fly one. She sits at what she assumes to be the pilot seat, surprised when the controls light up and a display flashes on, showing numbers and diagrams that she couldn't hope to understand.  
  
The only buttons she recognizes are the ones on the center console - ring symbols. The weird shape suddenly makes sense - the ships are meant to go through the ring just like a Wraith dart. She grins; that's why the room had no dialing device and they needed to guard this one. Escaping should be easy as aknidean water race, if she could only figure out how to fly it. "Come on, come on," she begs, fiddling with some more of the buttons.  
  
"I thought I'd find you here," comes a voice. Ancestors help her, it's Rodney, one of the few people she can't just order away. "What are you doing, anyhow?"  
  
"I couldn't sleep."  
  
"So you thought you'd come molest jumper two? I know you like one better, but that doesn't mean you should be playing the inertial dampener controls like a keyboard. You know, I, um. If you'd come to my quarters, I could have helped you sleep."  
  
That reminds her that even though she finds the idea of two men alone together (instead of both serving at her pleasure) to be both a waste and morally abhorrent, Rodney is attracted to this body. Judging by the way he kissed her earlier, he's in love with the Black Colonel, no matter how dangerous he may be. She stands, pushing up against him. "Maybe you could help me now. Fly me to a pretty little planet and we could make love under the stars."  
  
"Make love? I may be queer as a three dollar bill, but need I remind you that I do not in fact have a vagina, and I am not one of your damsels in distress. And also, you want  _me_  to fly, really?"  
  
"You can, can't you?"  
  
"Of course I can. It's just you normally have to be bleeding out before you let me."  
  
"I was just checking. I haven't, um, seen you fly in a while, and I want to." Romantic isn't working, but maybe something else will. She reaches out and grabs him through his pants, stroking in the way that never fails to make Jannick do whatever she asks of him. "I, um, don't think I can fly if you keep doing that. I mean, I know that in space everything is relative, but if you keep doing that, I might end up flying in circles."  
  
"Yeah?" she leans in to his mouth, delivering a punishing kiss.  
  
"Jesus, John!" he shouts, pulling away and hitting a button to close the hatch. "Not here. I know you have a big puddlejumper fantasy, but there are five of your men standing outside the door. What if they see us?"  
  
"All the more reason to go to some quiet planet where we can be all alone."  
  
"Where? The nearest planet is ten hours away and close enough to the sun to burn your skin off."  
  
"Then through the ring then. Please, Rodney, just a little ride."  
  
He steps back, looking frightened. "Um, John, I really think you should come with me back to the infirmary. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're clearly not yourself."  
  
"Forget about the infirmary, I need to be with  _you_ ," she whines. What kind of boyfriend is this man, to refuse to take his lover to some exotic location to have sex?  
  
"No. John, I'm serious." He raises his hand to tap at the communication jewelry, but she's quick to draw her gun.  
  
"What are you doing? John, this isn't funny."  
  
"I'm not laughing." She's been feeling confused and unbalanced all day, but this -the heavy weight of the gun in her hand, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the look of fear in Rodney's eyes- this feels right. "You should have taken me for that ride."

@@@

John stares in the mirror in disbelief. Breasts? Nice ones, but seriously, breasts? He itches at the leather plastered against his skin like a some rotten sticky thing. The lace is even worse, not to mention the corset. He still can't believe the lengths women will go to in order to look pretty. He's burning up, remembering that brief foray into metal, eyeliner and bondage just to piss off his father. John had settled for going to Stanford as a rebellion technique because he couldn't take another second of sweating like a pig and waddling around in his too-tight leather pants. He kind of likes the collar, though. Maybe, when he gets out of this mess, he can find a way to get Rodney to wear it.  
  
John takes one more moment to fondle himself, even though he feels nothing but his familiar hairy chest. Next, he pulls off the ridiculous shimmery miniskirt and rips off the dumb lace sleeves. Now he looks less like the bondage float at Fantasy Fest and more like Neo in the matrix. Or maybe Trinity. He's surprisingly okay with that. Plus, he can run with the front open like this.  
  
Next order of business, he wraps the material of the skirt and his leather belt around his hand and punches right through that dumb mirror. His captors are pretty damned stupid leaving something like that in here with him. But then again, they probably think he's a hooker, not a trained soldier. He has no idea how he got here, but he'd bet his left pinkie toe that it has something to do with Ancient technology, and he'll bet his life that Rodney'll figure it out. He vaguely remembers that other leather-lover, Vala, mentioning something similar about swapping bodies but seeing your own, but he'd learned pretty quickly to either tune her out or face your subordinate officers with a hard-on all day.  
  
He uses the tattered skirt to brush the small pieces of glass under the cot they've left for him, taking the longest, sharpest piece and wrapping the belt around one end. Ronon may be able to pull knives out of his hair, but can he make them? John smirks in triumph.  
  
It's not long before the magistrate comes looking for him, coming right up to the bars while John lounges on the bed.  
  
"I hope you contacted Atlantis while you were away, because once they find out you have one of their people, you're going to be very sorry. You know who we are and you know what happens to our enemies. You don't want to be one of those enemies." He stalks slowly up to the bars, leaning in a way that he hope properly displays this body's cleavage. The Magistrate doesn't step back.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I'm familiar with the uniforms of the Atlanteans, and that is certainly not it. And I contacted a few of my trading partners on other planets. It appears you and your accomplices have made quite the name for yourselves. I suppose I should feel fortunate. I mean, your crimes elsewhere far exceed the mere robbery charges you've been accused of here. I've counted no less than five murders committed on other planets by your hand alone - several more with the aid of your two accomplices."  
  
John isn't exactly willing to admit that he's stuck in some girls' body. It doesn't sound plausible, even to him. But he never promised not to lie. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm undercover." Nobody took a photo of him in this body and he'll just have to hope that the magistrate's friends don't have one either. "We found out a few months ago that artifacts were missing from some of the Ancient sites we were periodically monitoring. We traced them back to a ring of thieves. I infiltrated the group to attempt to locate the missing artifacts. My name is Doctor--" the first name to come to mind. "Jennifer Keller, and if you contact Atlantis, they will negotiate my release."  
  
"Nice story. I might have been convinced if I hadn't seen your face on a Genii want ad. You are said to be a highly effective liar, willing to fabricate any story, broker any kind of deal, to get yourself free. Rest assured, I will not fall for your tricks. As Magistrate of this village, I hereby pronounce sentence upon you for the crimes you have committed, not only on this planet but on all the other planets in the Coalition. Tomorrow you shall be taken from this cell and executed."  
  
"Oh, you don't want to do that," John pouts.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, first of all, you don't want to piss off Rodney McKay, trust me on that one. And if something happens to me, he'll be very, very pissed of. Blew up five-sixths of a solar system once. And then, there's this."  
  
With that, John reaches through the bars, yanks the magistrate to him, and puts his makeshift knife to the man's throat, managing to cut himself only a little bit in the process. "So, now that you're in a position to listen, here's what you're going to do," he tells the guards. "You're going to open this cell door, let me and the Magistrate here take a little walk to the gate, and let me contact my people myself. That's my plan B. I guess yours is letting me slit this guy's throat."  
  
@@@  
  
This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening, Rodney thinks to himself. There is no way he's tied to a chair in the jumper with a patrol of Marines outside the door and John Sheppard poking at the buttons of the puddle jumper like a Ritalin-starved five-year-old. John might act like a walking case of ADHD in every other aspect of life, but not flying the jumper.  
  
"So, you're clearly not John Sheppard, because John Sheppard would never tie me up and point a gun at me. Well, except for that one time when he shot me, and that other time when he fed me to the whale, and the head slaps, and the spanking ritual on MS7-777, and the thing with the personal shield." So maybe the Black Colonel was the abusive boyfriend that she thought he was. "Okay, so maybe he would, but he wouldn't break a lock-down, except for that quarantine incident, and the other quarantine that wasn't a quarantine, and the whole return from the milky way thing. But John Sheppard, under no circumstances, would ever want me to take  _him_  on a joyride. And he certainly wouldn't say 'make love,' because Colonel Emotionophobe can't even say the god damned L-word, especially not in connection with me. So you're not John Sheppard. And since I've already clearly established that fact, why don't you tell me who you are and how in the hell you got here?"  
  
John sighs, sitting far too straight in his chair and turning to him with businesslike precision. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. My name is Neeva Casol. I have no idea what I'm doing here or how I came to be in this person's body."  
  
"You mean you weren't trying to infiltrate the city?"  
  
"Not doing a very good job if I am. One moment I was myself, searching through some artifacts in a village. The next moment I'm stuck in some strange  _man's_  body standing in the middle of this city. Every time I look at my reflection I see the Black Colonel staring back at me."  
  
"The Black Colonel? God, Sheppard is going to love this. It's almost the man in black. He'll be insufferable. But then again, his body is inhabited by a girl, which means no more teasing over the whole Cadman affair. Speaking of which. You said you see him when you look in the mirror. When you look down at your body, what do you see?"  
  
"Myself. Breasts."  
  
That sounds familiar to Rodney. He wracks his memory. Something to do with SG1, or he'd actually have cared enough to remember it. Regardless, if SG1 dealt with it and are obviously alive to tell the tale, it can't be too difficult for him to figure out. After all, Daniel Jackson isn't exactly Rodney, and any of Sam's brilliance is certainly balanced out by Cameron Mitchell's stupid and Vala's slutty. "So tell me more about this artifact, the last one you touched."  
  
The pedestal with the little stones she describes sounds familiar. "The question is, why Sheppard? It could be that he's the closest thing to an Ancient around here for the device to connect to. But more likely something Colonel Grabby McGrabby-pants decided to touch."  
  
He thinks back to the last time Sheppard was in the lab with him. No that long ago.  
  
_'God, this is amazing!' Rodney had said. 'I mean, this is the original design concept for a personal cloaking device. They never got around to making it, but I think, you know, given enough time I might be able to actually do it. Tell me that's not cool.'  
  
'That's cool, Rodney, really cool.' Sheppard had that look in his eye, the old Pavlovian reaction to fancy toys that Rodney had loved from the beginning, before the whole 'in love' thing even arrived on the scene. _ He's currently tied to a chair with a crazy woman wearing John's body pointing a gun at him, but the memory still makes him smile.  
  
_'We could finally get hold of Radek's book sheet and find out what horrible things people are really betting about us.'  
  
'And as tempting as that sounds, if you're not going to build me one tonight, then I think I'd rather see the movie, maybe give you a blowjob.' _ Blowjob, another thing not to think about while tied up. _'Besides, we want to get seats.'  
  
'Ronon'll save us some, and you know it.'  
  
'He'll save us seats, but not popcorn. C'mon, Rodney,' John had whined. 'It's Dr. No. You can't say No to No!'  
  
'That was the least clever joke I ever heard, and that includes watching Carrot Top host a banquet for military contractors. Besides, I actually prefer the Bosnian Bonds.'  
  
John had laughed at that, coming over to try to pry Rodney's laptop away from him. 'Remind me again why I'm sleeping with you?'  
  
'Because you love me.' It had just slipped out, and Rodney regretted his stupid the mouth the second he heard it.  
  
'Um,' John had said, the light going out of his eyes, before noticing a box on the other lab table. 'Look at these things. I wonder what they do.' They were stones, Rodney's sure of it.  
  
'John! How can you keep touching things you're not supposed to when the last one turned your hair purple and made you want to eat nothing but peanut butter and spam for six days?'  
  
'It looked pretty bad-ass.'  
  
'Yeah, bad-ass like a fluffy purple unicorn. Let's go.' _  
  
Rodney smiles again at the memory. Sure its bittersweet, but he doesn't need declarations of love. Just being with John is enough. He's felt like the luckiest man alive since John took those great gasping breaths in the middle of that freezing water, snuggling up to Rodney and finally, finally kissing him, like it was the most natural thing in the world and they hadn't spent five years in this weird limbo of dancing around each other, never knowing.  
  
"I'm pretty sure I know what John touched and that I can fix it. But you'll have to let me go back to the lab and to check the database. We can fix this. Get you out of here and hopefully get John back. It stands to reason that if you're here in John's body, then he's somehow in yours. After I find the records on the machine, I can figure out how to disable it and we can get everyone back in the right bodies with the right body parts and everyone's happy, no need to tie up brilliant physicists."  
  
"Sounds like a good plan," John says, sounding almost like himself. "Except I have a better one. You tell me how to fly this thing. I take it through the ring to the planet with the device and you deactivate it there. I get my body back and you get the Black Colonel back and we never see each other again."  
  
"I really don't think that's a good idea. Somebody's shot Zelenka; the gate's in lock-down; I have no idea what kind of tools I'll need to shut off the device, let alone how to do it; and also, the me being kidnapped part."  
  
"Then how about this? I shot Zelenka and I'll shoot you too if you don't do what I say. Now, how do we activate this craft?"  
  
Rodney is tempted to tell her the radio button, or the door latch and hope like hell someone will hear and come rescue him.  
  
"No tricks," she adds, like she can read his mind. "Because if something happens to me or I don't tell you where the device is, you'll never have your Black Colonel back."  
  
Rodney gulps. She's right. It's not as though there's a gate address stored somewhere to track, or a way to even know what John looks like in the woman's body. They'll have to wait for John to come back on his own, and if he could do that, then he would have by now.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you. All you have to do is get me back in my body and we'll be free to go our separate ways." Rodney must be losing his mind, because she's starting to sound more and more reasonable.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
Rodney has about a second to stare into the forest in front of them and let his life flash before his eyes for the 482nd time, when the jumper slams into the nearest tree. Surprisingly, the jumper wins. Well, the shield does at least, inside the cockpit they barely feel it.  
  
Beside him, someone who looks like John is gripping the controls in completely the wrong way, bowling over trees like dominoes. "This is an aircraft! Up, up! Think three dimensions!" Rodney shouts, reminded of those scenes on the speeder bikes in Star Wars. They always made him dizzy and this was way worse. "I don't think the people on this planet are going to be very happy with you destroying their forest. Not to mention what'll happen when you drain the power to the shield and we hit one without it. Whiplash is a very serious condition, I'll have you know. And I don't think my auto insurance covers wrecks in another galaxy."  
  
"You complain a lot." She follows his advice anyway, taking them up into the sky above the trees. It looks too-bright blue and innocent for Rodney to still be tied to a chair.  
  
"Yeah, so?" Rodney responds the way he would to John, remembering too late that this is someone else entirely, and someone far more dangerous.  
  
"It's annoying. I'm surprised the Black Colonel puts up with it. He could do better."  
  
"Yes he can. I don't have any idea why he puts up with me," Rodney sighs. Has no idea why he'd tell this to his kidnapper. Probably because she looks like John and he's been longing to ask him those very same questions.  
  
John's body shrugs. "You must have your redeeming qualities. You love him. That's a plus. Now, shut up or I will gag you."  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
John is not far out into the forest when they start pursuing him. He'd had to ditch the Magistrate when the man proved to be too heavy to really drag along. His stride is not as long as he is used to, though this body is still fast. He's glad he ditched the mini-skirt though, because he'd never be able to run like this otherwise. Unfortunately, he has no idea which direction the gate is in, but he doesn't necessarily need to make it all the way there. He just needs to evade capture long enough that they let their guard down, and then he can go back and follow someone on their way to the gate.  
  
His stomach grumbles and his calves burn, but his adopted body is young, no subtle aches or old scars twinging with the change in weather. He does take a moment, however, to wonder how the hell he'll be able to deal with a period, if he's forced to stay long enough in this body to have one. That thought is quickly buried with all the denial he can throw at it. John has long convinced himself that if he ignores something long enough, it'll go away.  
  
His palm is bleeding sluggishly where he cut it on the glass knife and he's been forced to wrap it in that stupid disco skirt, and his heart is pounding in his veins. It's really not that much different than any other mission, except for the breasts and the fact that he has no idea where he's going. Even the sounds of his pursuers crashing through the bush behind him are almost comforting in their familiarity.  
  
In fact, he's so focused on those sounds that he practically runs head first into a big guy dressed in a whole lot of leather. The next thing he knows, that big guy and his companion are drawing their weapons. John raises his hands in surrender. These guys don't look like villagers though, and that's confirmed when they shoot the search party that's finally caught up to John.  
  
"Are there more of them?" the rather attractive black guy asks.  
  
"Not in this group," John replies.  
  
"Good. Now, are you going to thank me for the rescue?"  
  
So these are obviously the woman's accomplices. John puts on his patented smirk. "I had it covered."  
  
Both men laugh, and John takes a moment to snatch a gun off one of the downed villages, following the guys off into the woods. They must want to get out of here as badly as he does, and they might as well work together for the moment. They'll at least know where the gate is.  
  
"You looked surprised for a second out there. What, you didn't think we'd save you?" asks the disgustingly hot man John has named Jules.  
  
John laughs. He knows this type. Their easy ribbing is familiar from the maintenance guys who used to work on his chopper - hard working, a little vulgar, and never serious. "I thought you'd save me alright, just not sure if I'd be alive to appreciate the rescue with you two at the helm."  
  
They laugh back, taking up easy positions sitting on crates at the back of the cave. John takes a seat too, setting his gun on the tight black material of his legging like it belongs there.  
  
"Besides," says the other man, Vincent in John's book, "after how many times you saved our hides, we're not going to let you down."  
  
"Never leave a man behind," John replies. He doesn't care all that much to blend in. He's got a weapon out (another convenience of the bondage gear, he supposes - no pockets) and theirs are both holstered. If anybody gets suspicious, he can just shoot first and ask questions later.  
  
"So, what's the plan?" Vincent asks.  
  
"You mean you don't have one? What kind of rescue is this, anyway?"  
  
"Well, we rescued you for a reason," Jules grins, "and it's not how good you fuck."  
  
John laughs, employing the hated technique of wives and girlfriends everywhere and lounging in a way he knows is sexy on a man, hoping it's sexy on this body too. "Does that mean I'm relieved of that chore?"  
  
Vincent snorts. These guys really don't have the most sophisticated sense of humor.  
  
John glares at him. "So, I say it's time we blow this Popsicle stand. Get to the gate and get out."  
  
"Popsicle stand?"  
  
"Gate?"  
  
John clears his throat, aware only belatedly how Victorian that will sound coming from a woman. Oops. "You know, get off this stupid planet. I don't know about you, but I'm not having fun anymore."  
  
"They'll be guarding the Ring," Jules points out.  
  
John shrugs. "So we get rid of the guards. Wait until dark, take them by surprise, piece of cake."  
  
"Cake?" Vincent asks.  
  
"Well, what are we going to do until then?" Jules asks, with a lascivious smile that John well recognizes. In other circumstances, John might. If the guy wasn't a criminal with a gun, John didn't already have a boyfriend, and knew how the mechanics of sex in this body would translate to his own self-image.  
  
"You know, on the other hand, maybe we should head out now. It won't be long before they find this cave, now that they're looking."  
  
Jules and Vincent have that look of half-aroused disappointment that John is very familiar with after five years of staring at Rodney's ass knowing nothing would come of it. "Fine, lets go," he hands John a pack of what must be Ancient technology, and it aches somewhere deep in John's gut that he can't feel any of it. That, more than the impending period issue, has him hoping to god that he'll be able to get his own body back as soon as possible.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
"And of course you couldn't give me time to grab and MRE before we left. I'm hypoglycemic. If I go too long without food, I'll die," Rodney complains.  
  
"I don't know, it looks to me as though you can go a long time without food." That hurts, coming from John's mouth. Rodney's painfully aware that he's got a little padding around the middle, and that he's balding and pale, and not even close to in John's league. The woman hasn't bothered to wear John's tac vest and Rodney couldn't decide whether or not to remind her. He wants John's body protected by the Kevlar, but on the other hand, he wants to be able to use any weakness to get away from his kidnapper. She's also stripped off John's overshirt , so its just a tight black t-shirt that Rodney has only ever seen when John is dressing sexy for him. Rodney can't help if his reaction is reflexive. John has an amazing chest.  
  
"And my hands are chaffing in these bindings. It's not like I'm stupid enough to go running off when you have a gun pointed at me. Can't you just--"  
  
"Do you really want me to gag you again?"  
  
"No," Rodney replies sullenly. They'd waited until evening to take the jumper down into the woods near the village, flattening a few ferns and tree-branches in the process. "Now tell me again why we're sneaking into this place instead of just asking nicely. It's not as though they'll recognize you in Sheppard's body."  
  
"Well, first of all, they probably won't just agree to let us just mess around in their artifact room?"  
  
"Really? Because most of the people we ask that of on missions have no problem with it. I'm a somewhat renowned expert on Ancient Technology and Sheppard has the gene. People are lucky to have us messing around in their artifact rooms."  
  
"There's also the little problem of  _my_  body. If they've caught me, which judging by the fact that the Black Colonel hasn't come back yet, seems likely, then I'm not going to have the device work only to end up on the execution block."  
  
"Execution block? Wait, who said anything about execution block?"  
  
The eye-roll almost looks right, but it's missing the goofy indulgence that is John's usual. "I wasn't just messing around with the artifacts when I first came here."  
  
"You were stealing them. They execute people for that?"  
  
"That and other things. I may be wanted on a few words for slightly harsher crimes."  
  
"Oh my god. I'm here with a murderess. And you have Sheppard's body so you could just, and you might-- and please, please don't kill me!" Rodney always hates the way he sounds when he begs, but he can't help it. Dying is terrifying and awful and incomprehensible, but looking at your lover's face while he kills you is fate worse than death.  
  
The murderess stops walking, grabbing Rodney by the shoulder and turning him to face her. "I'm not going to kill you. So long as you get me my body back, I really don't want to kill you."  
  
It's not long before they're in the room and Rodney's staring at a device that looks like a giant genie's lamp, or some really expensive perfume bottle. He recognizes it from photos. Jackson and Vala had used it to to visit another  _galaxy_. Rodney can't for the life of him remember how they shut it off, only that it was difficult. And the second he gets his tablet hooked up, he sees why. There's no way to access the control crystal, electronically or otherwise, and the internal workings are such that he can't just pull the plug on power either.  
  
"Hurry up," John hisses and it takes Rodney a few moments of frantically working to remember that it isn't John.  
  
"I can't do it."  
  
"What do you mean? There must be another way! Can't you just remove the stones?"  
  
Rodney picks up one in demonstration and nothing happens.  
  
"You told me you were a genius!"  
  
"I am, but I'm not a miracle worker. The only way I can think of to destroy it is to toss it into the backwash of an incoming wormhole, but I'm pretty sure we can't carry it that far."  
  
"Well, figure something out. I think I hear people coming. No wait, get down!" Rodney's body reacts on instinct to a warning from John, backing up and away, but unfortunately knocking into a big pile of Ancient artifacts.  
  
"Shh!" the thief hisses, and now even Rodney can hear the footsteps of someone approaching.  
  
The room is dark, but Rodney knows that there's not really anywhere to hide. The thief is crouched behind the door frame, waiting for the first man who enters. A shot goes off and Rodney can hear a struggle. He looks frantically around for a weapon -one of those strange diamond shaped ancient stunners, even something he could uses as a club- when he recognizes it. It's a broach like the personal shield, only a shiny opalescent black and rounded, much prettier than the blueprint he'd found in Janus' lab. They'd built it after all, and stashed it with the rest of the the psychic linking equipment when they'd obviously split all this stuff up.  
  
Rodney spares a moment to think how cool John would think this is when he grabs the device and presses the personal cloak to his chest. He springs invisibly to his feet, only to see a group of guards dragging John's body away. It's not hard to follow them, even though the guard in the back keeps turning as though he hears something. Rodney hears John's voice in the back of his head, complaining about how much noise Rodney makes stumbling to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Maybe he should take Ronon up on his offer to learn some more stealth techniques. Not that he needs them if he's invisible!  
  
Rodney is busy celebrating invisible, invisible, invisible with himself when he hears it. "Must be one of her accomplices. If we can't get her under the executioner's blade, then we can at least rid ourselves of one."  
  
"No! Wait!" he hears John's voice beg like he's never heard it before, except for maybe panting and gasping in Rodney's bed, wanting it harder, faster, deeper. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis and you don't want to do this! I'm an innocent man!"  
  
One of the captors laughs. "I've already heard that excuse once today, forgive me if I don't believe you."  
  
Rodney approaches the nearest guard, hands trembling. The man's weapon is right there in the holster, all he has to do is grab and shoot. The thief can probably figure out the rest. Except then he hears the familiar sounds of machinegun fire back in the village where they came from.  Through the trees there are flashes of red. Rodney looks at the gun in front of him. Sheppard's body is flanked by easily ten men. He might be able to get a gun, but it doesn't look like it even holds ten bullets. Not to mention the fact that Rodney is a lousy shot. He can't risk hitting Sheppard, so he turns instead, running for the village and hoping he can catch up to Ronon in time.  
  
What he finds instead is Ronon, Carson and Teyla standing in the artifact room. "That's it!" Carson says. "At the SGC it was in my sample group of Ancient devices that didn't require the gene. It creates a psychic link between two people, essentially letting them switch bodies."  
  
"That explains much of John's strange behavior," Teyla remarks from where she's guarding the door.  
  
Rodney fumbles with the cloaking device, desperate to get it to disengage, but like the personal shield, it's reading his panic instead of what he really wants. He contemplates shouting out to them, but he doesn't want Ronon to do his usual shoot first and ask questions later routine, especially without Sheppard here to hold his leash.  
  
"How do we shut it off?" No! If they shut it off now, the John who's safe out of the hands of these crazy villagers will be back in his body that's about to be executed, and though Rodney loves that body -from the dancing eyes, to the crazy hair, to the breathy little moans John makes when he's buried deep in Rodney- he'd rather live with John in even Margaret Thatcher's body than have John die out of his own inaction.  
  
"I think they just destroyed it," Carson says.  
  
Rodney yanks the cloaking device from his chest, ripping through flesh, but he's visible only long enough to shout, "No!" before Ronon pulls the trigger and the device goes up in smoke.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
There aren't too many guards at the gate. Thank god for small mercies. Besides, John is good at this escaping thing by now. He nods to Vincent and Jules, motioning for them to spread out. The guards are milling around aimlessly, not particularly well-trained. They're young and just doing their duty. John resolves to aim for extremities shots, just enough to get through the gate.  
  
Jules and Vincent have other plans, however, taking their first target straight through the chest. They're good, John has a moment to think before he firing all he has. His aim is a little off, accounting for the differences in reach of his real body to what he feels and he gets rid of all but one target, who is fast approaching. He dives, rolling into the man and knocking him over. He takes a few bruising hits to the gut as the man struggles, but manages to get on top. It takes more hits than usual to subdue the guy and when he turns around, Jules is already at the gate, dialing. John stares, dazed, remembering that he'd intended to dial the alpha site and have Lieutenant Fischer disarm these guys for him on the other side.  
  
He hesitates only a second before more shots ring out from the forest. He has no choice but to dive headfirst through the open wormhole, Jules and Vincent on his heals.  
  
What he finds on the other side is a wide meadow of wildflowers, far too idyllic a scene to be wasted on the two exhausted criminals who trudge before them. "Hey, Neeva," Vincent says, "Why didn't you use Janick's ankle-twist in that fight? You know it works much better than log-rolling into people."  
  
"I wanted to amuse you." The two criminals snicker, stopping in the middle of the field and leaning down to pull open what looks like a well-hidden trapdoor. John looks longingly at the gate, but they can still shoot him in the back as he dials and he doesn't want to just shoot them both in cold blood. They're buying his act, he can just wait to make the excuse to go off world and then he can escape and leave them in peace.  
  
The trap door isn't a weapons cache as John was expecting, but a network of stone tunnels, supported by massive wooden beams. The cave network must run close to the surface here and the criminals have kept it from collapsing with their own handiwork. John is somewhat impressed, in spite of himself. Jules hands him a backpack of goods. "Lock these up," he says.  
  
"Lock them up?"  
  
Vincent nods his head at what John recognizes to be an Ancient storage locker. Rodney uses some of them in his labs because they're built to be Ancient Tech-neutral.  
  
"Why don't you do it?" he asks.  
  
Jules snorts. "I would, if you'd give us the key."  
  
Shit. John should know better than to hope that thieves trust each other. "Sure. I'll take care of it later. He stalks up to the man, hoping for sexy. "Right now, I thought you'd like to celebrate."  
  
Jules raises and eyebrow as John sinks to his knees, ready to take one for the team, also to grab the glass knife he kept in his boot. He's not expecting to be grabbed by the hair he doesn't actually have, head pulled back in a way that might be sexy under other circumstances. "I don't know what is wrong with you, but you had better open that safe now, Neeva." The 'or else' is definitely implied.  
  
"Okay, okay, I'll open it." John puts his hands up, letting Jules yank him to his feet and shove him back over to the storage device. Rodney had said something about a self-destruct option that they sometimes used when they wanted to get ride of unstable devices. John wracks his memory for the code, hating that he can reach just out with his mind and know it. But he's good with numbers, closing his eyes and visualizing them before typing. The Fibonacci sequence, the Ancient's favorite cancellation code.  
  
The light on the storage container blinks happily up and him and John has just enough time to reach into the bag of ancient artifacts, tossing one at Jules and the bag at Vincent. Their momentary flinch in enough for John to bolt for it, diving under the nearest table as the safe goes off and the ceiling comes down.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
One minute, Neeva is pressed down into a stump, the blade glinting high above her, and the next she's standing in front of the ring in that beautiful wide-open room, ten weapons trained on her and Mr. Woolsey frowning. "Let me get this straight, Colonel. You switched bodies with a random woman, who did quite a bit of damage while in your body, might I add. And now you're going to prove to me that you're really you?"  
  
Neeva coughs. She's covered in dust and the Black Colonel has obviously ruined one of her favorite outfits by ripping off the sleeves and the skirt. "I'm not going to prove it," she answers, resignedly. "We switched back."  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
John has about two seconds to realize that he's back in his own body and right back into the mortal peril he'd just escaped because there's a huge guy with an axe standing above him. "Wait!" he shouts. "Don't do this! I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis and you do not want to do this."  
  
"How many times do I have to hear that excuse?" the Magistrate says.  
  
"The answer is blowing in the wind?" John offers, rolling over onto his back so he can see right up into the executioner's nose hair. His people are close. Before John was back here, Lieutenant Fischer had informed him that Ronon and Teyla were out searching for him and Rodney. That means that he just has to stall long enough for the cavalry to catch up. "Look, this has all be a great big misunderstanding. I think we just need to take a chill pill and sort this all out."  
  
"We caught you in the artifact room."  
  
"But I'm not one of Neeva's accomplices. They're dead already. I can take you to the bodies  _and_  all the artifacts the stole from you."  
  
The Magistrate seems to consider it for a moment, but there's a hard glint in his eyes that tells John that he won't do it. Luckily, the guards are getting tired of holding him down at this point, since he's stopped struggling, and he takes advantages of the opportunity to knee the executioner in the balls, shake off the men holding him down and make a run for it. He doesn't make it two steps however, until there's a shot, and a sharp pain in his back and he's eating dirt hard right in front of the executioner's dropped blade. He rolls over onto it.  One of the guards leans over him, gun raised, and John has about five seconds to thank god that the blade is sharp enough to slit through his bindings like butter. He rolls to his feet to the tune of "shoot him!" grabbing hold of the axe just below the blade and stabbing it into the nearest guard's neck. More shots ring out, and though he tries to hold the dead guy up as a human shield, something is really wrong with his left arm. He can't lift it, and there's a choking pain in his shoulder.  
  
John collapses to the ground, the dead guy an awful, stupid weight on top of him, providing cover only as long as it takes them to pull him off. He just lies there panting, disgusted that this is going to be how it ends, right when everything is working out. Michael is dead, the Wraith are on the defensive, and he finally, after all this time, has Rodney, even though he still can't get up the guts to tell the man how he feels. He lets out a pained cry when dead guy is lifted from him, to find nobody there.  
  
John blinks and Ronon is leaning over him, grinning. "That girl fought way better than you," he says, and that's the last thing John remembers before passing out.  
  
  
@@@  
  
  
John's still a little loopy from the pain meds, happy that someone shot him in the shoulder this time instead of another gut shot. It's like the universe just likes to shishkabob him lately, instead of just grazing his bicep. It's gotten so bad that Keller has been talking about excising scar tissue or something similar. He's waiting on Carson for a second opinion. But right now he's walking on sunshine and hating every minute, the world around him bright and glossy. His right arm is in a sling, but he can't feel it.  
  
He saw his team earlier when he woke for the first time after surgery, but he's surprised to not see any of them here now. John groans, looking to see if maybe Teyla is nursing Torren behind one of the privacy screens and surprised to find a familiar face standing there instead.  
  
She leans down to touch her forehead to his the same way the Athosians do, wincing when he grimaces. "I'm sorry. I'm Neeva Casol, and I don't believe we've met."  
  
"John Sheppard," John grouses. He's tired and loopy and in the mood to be indulged. He just wants  _Rodney_.  
  
"I'm glad you're okay," Neeva says. She is actually very pretty, now that those are her breasts and not John's. In fact, she's exactly his type, from the narrow hips to the wavy brown/blond hair and the thin nose and the long face and the leather. She's almost a spitting image of Larrin.  
  
"No thanks to you."  
  
"No, no thanks to me. I'm sorry this happened. The whole thing was an accident."  
  
"I don't blame you for that," John replies. "I do blame you for whatever you did that made them want to execute your little posse though."  
  
"I'm sorry for that, too."  
  
"Five murders, wanted by the Genii. They're our allies, you know. I'm surprised Woolsey hasn't turned you in. You haven't redeemed yourself, so far as I can tell. You didn't do anything that wasn't in your own self interest. And you kidnapped my scientist."  
  
She sits down on the side of his bed. "And you murdered my two associates and several guards in the time you were left alone in my body."  
  
"That was in self defense, not stealing anything."  
  
She reaches out a thin hand, stroking his hair. "We've both killed innocent people. I think the distinction stops there." John knows in his heart of hearts that she's right, of course. Killing is never really okay, not even in war. It's just been a long time since John has let himself feel that. "You know what your Rodney told me? He was going to let me die. I did tie him up and briefly gag him first."  
  
"I've always wanted to do that." John loves Rodney, but sometimes, he wishes that he'd literally put a sock in it. Preferably one of Ronon's smelly old ones.  
  
"I don't need to hear about your fantasies, Sheppard. Besides, my point is that he was willing to take a life for you. He was willing to live with you in my body."  
  
"It's not a bad body." He leers.  
  
"Thanks, but that's not the point. The point is that he loves you enough to kill for you, or to live with you in whatever body you come in. He loves you."  
  
"I know," John whispers, blushing and feeling guilty all over again. They don't say it. Well, Rodney had said it when his mind had been slowly deteriorating, but to the camera and not to John's face. Thank god he doesn't even remember it.  
  
"He thinks you don't feel the same."  
  
"What? I-- Of course I do. Do you think I'd put up with the arrogance and all the complaining if I didn't?"  
  
"I asked myself that same thing. You know, you could do better."  
  
"No," John replies, tired of hearing people make fun of Rodney. As far as he's concerned, they don't have the  _right_. The only people that should be allowed to make fun of Rodney are the people who get him, who understand how his arrogance masks his insecurity and his hypochondria masks his bravery. Even Rodney's truest character flaw: his petty stubbornness is balanced by the fact that he wants to be a better man. He's willing to change, even though he's not particularly successful at it. That's far more than John can say for himself. John can't even get over himself enough to tell Rodney how much he loves him. "I really couldn't do better."  
  
Neeva smiles. "That's good to hear. I'd better get going."  
  
"Woolsey sending you through the gate?"  
  
"No, actually, I'm heading to one of your research posts as a botany assistant."  
  
"You know anything about plants?"  
  
She laughs. It's high and airy. John wishes he'd laughed while in her body and that maybe Rodney could hear it. It sound so much more genuinely happy that John's awful donkey bawl. "Not at all. But when I asked Mr. Woolsey if there was anywhere I could go where the Coalition couldn't find me, he said P2Y-229."  
  
John almost bit his tongue trying not to laugh. "You know that's a swamp planet, right?" Lorne had come back from the initial survey mission covered in orange mud and ranting about Dr. Parish and Degoba. "And that the only way to get there is by jumper?"  
  
"I'm doing a two month trial run. Mr. Woolsey says that if I last a whole year there, he'll consider letting me stay with you in the city."  
  
"That's pretty generous of him." Especially when Atlantis is technically a member of the Coalition, though they haven't signed off on any prisoner exchange treaties. "What'd you do to make him trust you?"  
  
"Nothing other than the fact that there's no way off that rock. Probably be harder than the Underworld, but you killed my associates."  
  
"Sorry about that." Though not  _that_  sorry.  
  
"I know it must be hard to understand, but you ever feel the need to just start over? New place? New people? New personality? I did it when my world was culled. I'll do it again now."  
  
John nods. He remembers the sprawling mansion and the horses and his father's stern gaze, then Stanford's noisy halls and his geeky friends. He remembers basic training and push-ups and shouted commands, the desert and so much death, the cool solitude of the ice, the second he set foot in this very city and how it'd felt like home. He's been a lot of different people over the years. He's had more second chances and fresh starts than he deserves. He doesn't know this woman, but he's happy she's getting hers. It feels good to forgive someone who John would ordinarily judge as enemy. He hasn't had a lot of practice at forgiveness.  
  
"Good luck," he offers. "I guess I'll see you around then?"  
  
She touches her forehead to his again and he spares a moment to wonder about the fit the anthropologists will have when they find out about this. Maybe its more than just the Athosians, but from many of the old cultures of Pegasus.  
  
He's tired and his shoulder is beginning to ache, but he forces himself to roll over onto his side so he can check on Zelenka. That woman shot him. John can barely believe he's forgiven her. But then again, he'd almost killed a guard who caught him in the artifacts room when he changed bodies. He can't exactly blame her for doing the same.  
  
Zelenka will be fine anyhow. He's a trooper. A trooper with a box of Czech pastries that can magically appear on his table? John blinks, trying to rub the drugs out of his eyes and out of his system. He's almost convinced he hallucinated the whole thing when his Nintendo DS appears on his own bedside table. "What the hell?"  
  
Then there's something touching his feet and John is freaking out and scrambling up the bed to get away from it (an invisible bug?) and reaching frantically for the call button before the air above him shimmers to a grinning Rodney. "Sorry, sorry, god, John. Just stay still. Don't hurt yourself."  
  
"Jesus, Rodney, scaring me when I'm all drugged out is a really low blow."  
  
"Sorry. I just figured you'd want to see this right away: the personal cloak has a prototype after all."  
  
John's annoyance is soon overridden by the sheer coolness of a  _personal cloaking device_. "It is pretty cool."  
  
"Better than cool."  
  
"Almost James Bond cool."  
  
"Better than Bond cool. He had exploding Swiss watches and decapitating bowler hats. We have a  _personal cloaking device_."  
  
"But the fast cars..."  
  
Rodney rolls his eyes in that way that he saves just for John - affectionate annoyance. "Typical."  
  
"So, that's nice of you, getting Zelenka his pastries. Too bad he wasn't awake to see it. He can jump really high when he's scared."  
  
Rodney snorts. "Hardly nice. I got them to show that I can get into his secret stash and if I can get into his stuff then I can find his book sheet, even if he keeps it in a footlocker in Lorne's office."  
  
"Lorne has an office?"  
  
"Well, technically, it's your office. You just don't use it, so Lorne squats there. And if he's not there, Zelenka, that crafty little rat, installed an espresso machine in there, so there's always people in and out keeping an eye on things.  
  
"So, you got the book? What did it say?"  
  
"It's written in Czech, so it's hard to tell, but I did catch something about you and I getting together, or possibly what color egg the seabirds he named after us will hatch."  
  
"When I get out of here I'll ask Dr. Scott from linguistics to translate it. She likes me." John uses his biggest shit-eating grin.  
  
"Of course she does." Rodney doesn't sound as petty and pissed off as he usually does when John does what he perceives to be "Kirkian" behavior. "I bet she wants your body too."  
  
"It's all the rage," John groans, trying to settle into a more comfortable position for his shoulder.  
  
"I brought you these," Rodney says, holding out a box of chocolates. It must really be love if Rodney's willing to part with his Godiva, though John's pretty sure that Rodney will end up eating most of it anyway.  
  
"Aw, how romantic." Rodney's brought him stuff in the infirmary before, so it's not conspicuous. Usually it's comic books or video games or beer if John's not on too many painkillers to have it.  
  
"I also have Mitchell's tape of the UC-something verses something-State game loaded onto my laptop and might possibly be persuaded to watch it with you."  
  
John's grin falters. There's nice, then then there's  _too_  nice. "You feel really bad about this, don't you?"  
  
Rodney shuffles his feet. "I'd swear I've never known anybody better than I know you, but it took me the better part of a day to realize you weren't really you and it only really dawned on me when you pulled a gun on me. I should be used to this stuff by now. I mean body-swapping is like the biggest scifi cliche ever. I'm surprised it hasn't happened more by now."  
  
"So what did I do? Did I try to seduce Woolsey?"  
  
"What? Well, in the movies, the body-swapped person always hits on someone inappropriate. If they're a woman, they normally make out with another woman. Stuff like that. So what did I do?"  
  
"Well, you listened to your doctor's advice for once. That was a shocker. You managed to get Ronon on the mat while sparring."  
  
"Heard about that one already." Yeah, because Ronon wouldn't shut up about it.  
  
"You hugged Teyla. Voluntarily. Why she didn't pull a gun on you, I still don't know."  
  
John has to laugh at that one, though he's somewhat afraid of the fallout. Having finally gotten her real hug, Teyla might start pursuing that 'teach John to behave like a normal human being' track of hers again, and John really doesn't need that. "Yeah, well, you know me and emotions."  
  
What a stupid thing to say because now Rodney's eyes go wide and he looks bashfully away.  
  
"Rodney," John reaches out, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder, "you know I, um. You know I--"  
  
Instead of looking hurt and accusing, Rodney smiles, his big blue eyes sparkling. "Don't sprain anything, John. I know. I may have, erm, been hanging around while you and Neeva were talking."  
  
John reaches out to hit at him, but then Rodney's cloaked again. Something tickles at John's infirmary stubble, invisible hands sliding over his cheeks and a warm breath that smells like coffee and genius mingling with his. John closes his eyes and sighs into the kiss. "I love you," he whispers, not tensing up or worrying at all. Talk about an identity crisis.  
  
"You know, I have this fantasy about an invisible guy giving me a blowjob," John adds, just to make sure Rodney doesn't think this love thing sets any precedent for regular discussion of feelings.  
  
Rodney's squeal of protest is loud enough to wake Radek in the next bed over, but John doesn't mind. He's happy here, exactly where he belongs.


End file.
